Werewolves have changed over time, but some habits, just don’t stop and go out of style, no matter what decade or century you’re in.

Werewolves are known for their fighting ability. The reputation of our breed, is ingrained with this skill set. Of course, there are different reasons for fighting. I’m not a fan of fighting. I figure there’s always a dumb excuse that can be supposedly used to justify fighting. I mean most of the time, the reasons given seem lame.

In the bad old days of werewolves being not so out in the open and the packs being extremely large, before they were hunted down heavily in their homelands, fighting was done as a means, of sorts, of survival – There were dominance fights.

There still are dominance fights, in today’s werewolf culture. But there is a big difference between them now.

Dominance fights in the old day, were considered any physical attack from any fellow werewolf on the leading Alpha of a pack. The challenger could be any wolf. Not even necessarily a pack wolf. They always fought in their animal form. This kind of fighting involved the caveman like, fight-to-the-death mentality. Yes it’s very thunderdome-esque starting with it’s too contenders and ending in one wolf’s death.

True dominance.

This type of fighting was done to prove a point. To ram home a message. To protect position of leadership and ultimately pack. To take out leaders thought to be unworthy and to regroup with a new mentality, under new leadership. To take over. To gain control, to assert one’s self within the pack and greater wolf community, so as to be revered.

Fights these days, are somewhat different.
They’re still held, and they’re still called dominance fights. But they’re about as far from different from our ancestors version of “survivor’s” than ours as you can get.

Today’s wolves, use dominance fights to attempt to get their way when most other options for whatever they are after, fail. Dominance fights, only happen between Alpha werewolves. They are publicized between packs of the warring wolves so it is made clear, what is being challenged. There’s always a tone of blood shed at these fights. But no longer do these warring wolves fight to the death. Not unless they really want to rain down hell on them self or their pack.

See, we can respect that we’re a rare breed, likely to die out. But we can’t respect each other enough to just deal with things in a normal, non violent way. Seriously makes me shake my head in wonder.

Dominance fights these days, have rules.
In the old days, there were no rules, it just came down to who was the best and the most alive at the end of it all.

I’m not sure exactly how many rules there are regarding today’s version of dominance fights, but I know there are a few key rules that every fighter obeys.

1. If any Alpha wolf, leading or not, of pack, is challenged to a dominance fight, they must accept. To not accept, is an automatic sign of weakness and if you’re a leader, you don’t want that. It just gives other wolves the wrong idea about green lighting your pack for target practice. Leading Pack Alpha’s can choose a representative for themself if they want.

But I don’t know any Alpha let alone leading Alpha, that would ever do that. I’ve never heard of one of them chickening out. They just don’t. If you’re a badass, well, you know you’re a badass and why the hell wouldn’t you prove it if provoked?

2. No Shape shifting
Fights are fought, in human form, in an underground, often secret and constantly moving, location around one of the pack’s hoods. No shape shifting is allowed. It’s considered cheating. Werewolves are ego-maniacs. They love to see how much damage they can do to each other and who can take the most, in their human skin, before it becomes too much.

3. Any Alpha who loses a dominance fight, submits to the winner’s decree, whatever that might be. Guess it’s the reason behind whatever the fight was started for in the first place.

Strangely enough, werewolves follow these rules quite thoroughly. Like they are actually respected, unlike say the opponent in the fight.

Weird wolves.

4. It’s not a fight to the death. One werewolf must concede defeat. Which in itself is a harder task than getting through the physicality of the fight to do. Egos – Alpha egos clashing.

You’ll find the only time a werewolf fights to kill, is because it is under attack. Not a sanctioned, controllable fight. Or it’s lost every single sense of control.

OMG look what happens when you spend too much time on the internet and you don’t or can’t have pets of your own. Because you’re a Werewolf and that freaks the shit out of other animals when they smell wolf, but see a human body before them.

Animals are so smart.

Case in point here with Pets Vs Werewolves

or case two: Cat vs Werewolf

Or three: Dog vs Werewolf

I found Pet Wars online. Yes they actually call it that. Put the word WAR in before pet. i’m still shaking my head over that.

Definition of war: a conflict carried on by force of arms, as between nations or between parties within a nation; warfare, a state or period of armed hostility or active military operations, active hostility or contention; conflict; contest

Well, it is a contest, a popularity contest at that. You basically vote for who is the cutest pet. It’s a vicious world we live in when we’re competing for cuteness points. At least I’m sure to survive. Still, pets – don’t they have enough to contend with – when to eat, sleep and play and be freeted on hand and foot all day long. I mean really, add the pressure of being cute in the looks department on top of that, well, they’ve got a rather full scheduled life then don’t they? Oh the pressure, of being a pet.

Still, there are some terribly cute pets out there. I got rather carried away with the voting process. It was hard not to. Check it out http://www.zootoo.com/petwars/

I held my own pretty nicely against The Manhattan Maen matriarch and head D’arenberg Alpha.

I wasn’t exactly, thrown to the wolves so to speak at dinner. She proved to be a hard-ass who was of course, rather protective of her son and his interests. Romantic and otherwise.

But Paris is a big boy and he runs his own life and he wasn’t afraid to pull her back when he thought she was overstepping her mark with me.

Between him playing referee and me not whimpering and backing down like an animal being preyed upon, we put on quite a show of defiance that entertained both his father and brother. Who politely chuckled their way through dinner behind raised hands and ducked heads.

Because of too much red wine, we ended up staying over. Has to be a good sign, that they drank the wine I bought. Right?

Paris got into a rather hushed and heated argument with his mother about our sleeping arrangements. She said I was going to sleep in the guest room, Paris said I was more than a guest and would sleep with him in his room. His mother then pulled out the old “this is my house” rule. Paris replied that if I slept in the guest room, he would sleep there with me. I was his packmate and his mother needed to respect that and that we are adults and will be sleeping together, in the same bed.

I could hear her say “Packmate? Don’t you think that’s a little strong a term to use, on her?”

“No, it’s not.” Paris fired back at her.

I of course, eavesdropped out of view, spying on the whole clashing of wolf egos.
Alpha’s are known to have a wicked temperament, and the more of them you put together in strained circumstance, the more explosive it can get.

We ended up staying in his old room. Together.
As I pulled off my top, and dropped it on the dresser drawer, Paris stilled, looking at me through dark and hungry eyes.

The way he stills is incredible. I mean, it’s like barely breathing. He goes into this ‘mode’ of stillness. It’s perfectly controlled and uniquely skilled. Not many could be so subtle and still project presence that consumes your conciousness.

I could never feel scared of that look, the one that says he’s turned predator and going hunting for me. It ignites a flame inside me. Makes my skin, heat up and my mouth goes dry in anticipation of what’s coming my way, because of him.

He was half undressed, his tie was off, his shirt untucked and undone, as he stood, breathing evenly, just watching me. His eyes tracked the movement of my hands as I slid down my skirt over my hips, stepping out of the material on the ground.

I was slow, and deliberate in my movement. As I stood on the opposite side of the bedroom, around the far side of the bed between us, in my boots and black see through underwear with purple ribbon edging.

“New?” He asked me softly, his eyes dropped lower and back up to my breasts again.
“Yes.”
“I like.” He murmured as if distracted by the sight of lingerie wrapping my body was a tasty treat, he had yet to sample.

He crooked a finger at me, indicating I should go to him. I walked around the bed to him. He let out a soft rush of air, and sighed as he ran his nose up along the side of my neck, right under my hair line. My breasts pushed into his chest, slowly pushing against him as I tried to breathe calmly while my pulse raced.
His lips kissed my shoulder, his hands pulled at the bra straps, ever so delicately, like the material was a caress ghosting over my skin, alerting my skin to prickle it tightly, aware of what I was getting into with him.

His head dipped and his lips sucked my brazenly exposed skin and I gasped as his tongue played. Running his shape shifted fangs over me, ever-so-lightly. Werewolf fangs, can be even more sensitive to sensation, through sex, than human teeth. So it was a win, win for both of us, that he was using them on me.

He walked me backwards till my knees hit the edge of the bed and we fell down onto it. Paris moved over me, those hands unhooking the sides of my knickers and pulling them down my legs, over my boots, until the skimpy material was flung aside. Wouldn’t want it to get in the way. Fingers, slid along soft skin and causing me to moan lightly. Which caused him to lift his head and look into my eyes.

“We’re going to play a little game of who can be the loudest.” He trailed his tongue around my nipple.
I groaned out loud.

“I think you can be louder than that.”

“Oh really?” I asked a little breathlessly as he moved those fingers in heated skin and my body filled with a sudden need for more. My breath rushing out in a gasp at his touch.

“Yes, I want everyone in this house, to know exactly what we are doing in here. What I’m doing to you. Consider your goal achieved when Wiatt bangs on the wall next door to us and tells us to keep it down.”

I started to laugh but the sound fell off my lips as his mouth started tasting me. He raised my leg up high, running a hand over my boot and grabbing the high heel of it. Using it as a handle to direct my leg where he wanted it. Above his head, in the air seemed like a good place.

My head tilted back and my mouth opened to greet the rest of the night before us.